


Soft

by griffinreyes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, F/F, clarke's a mess, could easily turn into smut but i didn't because i'm terrible, raven's wonderful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 13:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7104649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griffinreyes/pseuds/griffinreyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke finds Raven in a bathtub with a bottle of whiskey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soft

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic that i'm posting and it's more of a drabble than anything. it was written in like thirty minutes with no editing or anything. i just love clarke and raven and am so bitter that nothing has happened between them. also hit me up on tumblr @lornamorello

Holding booze was never Clarke’s strong spot. She’d become tipsy and giggly, a little unhinged and would always end up staring into the porcelain throne. There was something comforting about the cold, smooth tile of a stranger’s bathroom and the white light. Clarke stared into the empty toilet, trying to see her glassy reflection in the water. 

She hadn’t wanted to come to the party in the first place. But Octavia never took no for an answer and it wasn’t like Clarke had anything better to do on a Thursday night. 

“I think I’m going to puke.” Clarke whispered into the toilet, the noise echoing weirdly. 

“Just do it already.” A voice suddenly said and Clarke looked up. 

“God?” Clarke asked, her eyes wide as she stared up at the ceiling in awe. 

The voice snorted. “You really are drunk.” Clarke turned to see someone sprawled out in the bathtub, nursing a bottle of whiskey. Clarke moved the curtain so she could see the figure. She was a small Latina girl, her hair tied up in a sleek ponytail and a smirk on her face.

“Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here.” Clarke apologized, shaking her head and trying to rise up from her knees. 

“Clearly. You’ve been trying to puke for the past ten minutes and failing.” She pointed out, watching Clarke struggle to get up. 

“No, I haven’t.” Clarke weakly protested, not wanting to give this girl any more ammunition than she already has. She sighed and gave up, staying on her knees, her hands placed on the seat. 

“I can’t exactly hold your hair back right now but here’s a hair tie.” The pretty girl motioned to her leg as she took out her ponytail, shaking her beautiful brown hair out. 

Clarke’s eyes are glued to the girl’s leg, trying to figure out what strange contraption is on it. 

“It’s a brace.” The girl commented quickly, passing the hair tie to Clarke. Clarke’s fingers brushed against hers and all Clarke can do is sigh.

“Soft.” Clarke whispered, gripping the hair tie tight. The girl looked at her curiously, still smirking. Clarke shook her head, trying to focus. “Why can’t you get up?” Clarke asked, trying not to slur her words. 

“I was attempting to take a leak and somehow I fell and ended up in here.” The girl said, brazen and obviously frustrated. 

“Where’d you get the whiskey from?” Clarke asked, gesturing to the bottle that girl is clinging against her chest. 

The girl grinned. “Brought it in with me. Now, are you going to puke or what?”

Clarke shook her head, handing the hair tie back, wanting to touch the girl’s hand again. “I’m okay.” She said as the girl took the hair tie from her open palm. Clarke watched the girl’s face as she slipped it around her wrist and took another drink of the whiskey, wincing as it went down. 

“Stop staring.” The girl snapped. “It’s a brace not an invitation to start looking at me like a circus freak.” 

Clarke shook her head adamantly. “I wasn’t looking at that. I was looking at…” Clarke trailed off. 

“What?” The girl asked, her face softening. 

“I forgot.” Clarke murmured, lying to the girl. Putting all her energy into standing up, Clarke pushed up against the toilet and clumsily stood up. She reached both hands out to the girl, wanting to help her out. 

“I’m not a charity case.” The girl said, before reaching for Clarke’s hands. 

Clarke smiled, feeling the girl’s calloused hands slide over hers. As soon as she pulled, she wobbled, somehow tumbling into the bathtub on top of the girl. Clarke was straddling her, their hands still clasped together. 

“Are you okay?” Clarke asked worriedly, trying to push herself up so her weight wasn’t fully on the girl. 

“Ow.” The girl huffed, scooting back. “I’m good princess, what about you? You hit your head pretty hard.” 

Clarke shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows. “No, I didn’t.” 

The girl laughed heartily. “Yes, you did. Against mine.” 

Clarke sighed. “Oh.” She let go of one of her hands and brought it up to the girl’s forehead, brushing the red mark softly. “Soft.” Clarke murmured again. 

The girl smiled as she stared back into Clarke’s eyes. “What’s your name?” Clarke asked, unaware of the situation. The only thing between their chests pressing against each other was the bottle of whiskey. 

“Raven.” The girl whispered as Clarke’s eyes drooped. 

“You’re soft Raven. And I’m Clarke.” Clarke said, taking the bottle of whiskey and moving it aside, falling fully onto Raven. Clarke’s face was fully buried in Raven’s neck. “I’m going to sleep.” Clarke murmured against Raven’s neck.

Raven shivered from the sensation, letting Clarke rest in the crook of her neck. “Goodnight Clarke. Please don’t puke on me.” 

Clarke giggled into her neck. She was pretty sure Raven was the closest thing to God she’d ever get.


End file.
